


Half-forgotten Among the Flowers

by sPoNgEbOb_fOnT



Series: In the Garden of Bleeding Hearts [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Argentina National Team, Athletic Trainer Iwaizumi Hajime, CA San Juan, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Character Study, Hanahaki Disease, Idiots in Love, Japanese Men’s National Volleyball Team (Haikyuu!!), Japanese National Team, Kageyama Tobio is Bad at Feelings, Kageyama Tobio-centric, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Kageyama Tobio, Pining, Pining Kageyama Tobio, Post-Timeskip, Pre-Relationship, Pro Volleyball Player Everybody, Pro Volleyball Player Hinata Shouyou, Pro Volleyball Player Hoshiumi Kourai, Pro Volleyball Player Kageyama Tobio, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, Pro Volleyball Player Ushijima Wakatoshi, Relationship Study, Sad Kageyama Tobio, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, is it really unrequited though?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27577706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sPoNgEbOb_fOnT/pseuds/sPoNgEbOb_fOnT
Summary: (Sequel to Across the Pacific Ocean | OiKage Hanahaki AU)Kageyama Tobio feels as if he were floating in limbo—not quite forgetting though not quite remembering, either. Every trip down memory lane is paid for in blood and pain, and he knows there will come a day where he cannot keep both his past and future intact. He suspects he will eventually sacrifice the former, yet in those awe-filled moments where the screen and kilometres between them do nothing to dull the sheer brilliance that is Oikawa Toru, Kageyama is afraid of just how much he wishes the latter to be buried underneath the petals instead.(A follow-up guide to balancing Kageyama Tobio’s professional volleyball career, the fiery blooms in his chest, and his fading memories of a middle school senpai still an ocean away.)
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio & Tsukishima Kei & Yachi Hitoka & Yamaguchi Tadashi, Hinata Shouyou/Yachi Hitoka, Hoshiumi Kourai & Kageyama Tobio, Kageyama Miwa & Kageyama Tobio, Kageyama Tobio & Kindaichi Yuutarou, Kageyama Tobio & Kindaichi Yuutarou & Kunimi Akira, Kageyama Tobio & Kunimi Akira, Kageyama Tobio & Schweiden Adlers, Kageyama Tobio & Tsukishima Kei, Kageyama Tobio & Ushijima Wakatoshi, Kageyama Tobio & Yachi Hitoka, Kageyama Tobio & Yamaguchi Tadashi, Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: In the Garden of Bleeding Hearts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931920
Comments: 38
Kudos: 119





	1. Kageyama wants to time travel and slap himself

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is the second installment of the series "In the Garden of Bleeding Hearts," so please read the first work titled "Across the Pacific Ocean" before coming here! Thank you so much!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is an entire chapter of Kageyama complaining about natto! Enjoy :D

Kageyama’s faint humming is muffled by the whirring of the bathroom ventilation as he ruffles his dripping locks with the microfibre towels only Miwa is insistent and selective enough to keep in their flat. ‘ _Cotton ones are dry and coarse and they damage your hair_ ,’ she explained. However, his sister’s hair-stylist-approved cloth proves to be less effective and necessary than she believes because he uses it to vigorously dry his inky strands anyway. 

Once Kageyama is satisfied with how water is no longer dribbling down his nape, he returns the towel to its rack before slipping past the kitchen and padding over to his bed. His room is closer to the main bathroom than compared to his sister’s, though he’s the only one who uses it in their modest yet elegant apartment. Miwa has her an ensuite washroom strewn with makeup palettes, brushes, lotions, and curling irons to double as storage. 

The bed groans under his weight as he gracelessly plops down on the classic white covers. There aren’t many chores to undertake or errands to run in the handful of days leading up to his first practice with the Schweiden Adlers, so he opts to lie as a boneless heap before Miwa finishes cooking and calls him to eat.

_I’ve already set the table, so that’s done._

The black-haired man stretches his hands out in front of him before he brings them closer to meticulously inspect his nails. He cut and filed them to a uniform length, though he supposes he should clip them shorter before he meets the team and officially starts training as a professional Division 1 volleyball player. 

His eyes flicker to the ceiling. It’s a fiery red because Miwa thought the grey and white ones she moved in to were inexcusably plain. He would paint it back to its drab original colour if he were planning on rooming with his sister for the rest of his professional career in Tokyo—except he isn’t. The living arrangement is only temporary, allowing the siblings some time together before the elder leaves for an international fashion show and the younger relocates to the building provided for the team. 

_The team, huh?_

Instead of the white and gold gradient jerseys that should follow the mention of ‘team,’ Kageyama’s mind flashes to the familiar orange and black one he no longer dons. His final year at Karasuno felt ephemeral, as though it were only yesterday that he was being handed his number 2 jersey while the rest of the players (save for Yamaguchi who came before him) buzzed impatiently behind him. Then everything else that followed—receiving his diploma against all expectations, stepping out of the wooden gym a final time, packing and subsequently unpacking his limited number of personal belongings in the country’s capital city—must’ve been hyperrealistic dreams spun in the time between. 

Yet a swift glance at the framed picture of himself, Hinata, Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, and Yachi currently sitting on the second ledge of his shelf acts as a reminder none of it is a figment of his imagination. With Kageyama back in commission as the regular setter, Karasuno was at the height of its power in time for the prefectural playoffs. His return reignited a spark that raged into a wildfire as the team blazed a path to claim a spot as one of the nation’s top powerhouse schools. 

Yachi asserted third in the nation was nothing to be ashamed of and Kageyama knew this, of course. Karasuno fought tooth and nail to force Itachiyama into playing the third set—even securing the spot against the Tokyo team (who—interestingly enough—proved to be the eventual champion) was a feat in itself.

Nonetheless, he finds himself running simulations of Karasuno’s semi-final match inside his head—three months later—wondering how else it could’ve played out. Perhaps they could’ve advanced to the finals if Kageyama had been a little closer to the centre of the court to dig the ball up. Or if he had chosen to play it a little safer when it was still their turn to attack and set to Yamaguchi instead. Or if he had been a little more accustomed and a little less distracted by the bright, bright neon of Itachiyama’s players. No one should’ve ever been allowed to wear those blinding uniforms to begin with. 

“Tobio! Dinner!”

Said brother immediately launches himself off his bed to make a mad dash for the dining room. Today is Friday and it’s a long-standing tradition within the Kageyama household that Fridays call for curry. Although he prefers pork curry, Miwa is magical in that all her curry dishes (regardless of the type of meat and vegetables) are as warm and welcoming as their grandfather used to make it. Kageyama still hasn’t fully mastered the art yet, hence why he never cooks on Friday evenings. 

Kageyama’s lips stretch upwards in an uncontrollable smile as his eyes land on the table. This morning, Miwa hinted she had a surprise prepared for dinner. He doesn’t notice anything special from his current position before he hurries closer, bursting with curiosity.

He catches sight of the so-called ‘surprise’ and his stomach drops faster than his grades did the second his acceptance into the summer training camp was confirmed and no longer relied on academic performance. 

A complaint tumbles out of his mouth before he can even attempt to silence himself. 

“When are you going to make pork curry, Onee-san?” 

Miwa shrugs, says a quick ‘Itadakimasu,’ and gestures for him to sit. He doesn’t. Instead, he shuffles back and wrinkles his nose. In place of the golden, buttery curry he originally scrambled into the dining room for is miso soup (this he doesn’t mind), chicken (he recognizes it as yesterday’s leftovers), cucumber and radish (both are healthy and relatively delicious), and public enemy number one—natto. 

_Ew._

“Oh, c’mon”—Miwa beckons him closer impatiently—“you can make all the curry you want when I’m away on a job and you’re with your teammates—which I know you’ll do.” She nonchalantly takes a bite of the disgusting heap of fermented soybeans. “Besides, I’m going to only be living on, like, energy bars and coffee for the show in a few weeks, so I’m getting ready beforehand. Natto’s healthy and stuff”

Kageyama is diligent in his self-maintenance—this is a well-known fact among his teammates back in Karasuno. He writes in his volleyball diary every day, makes sure he completes his morning run before breakfast, completes his stretches prior to stepping onto the court, and monitors his nutritional intake to keep his body in tiptop condition. 

Following this logic, he should be an avid fan of the food because of its health benefits—but it’s exactly _because_ he prioritizes his health to this extent that he does his best to never let even the smallest bit of natto slip past his teeth. 

“It’s not even bad,” Miwa attempts to reason through a mouthful of her meal. He raises his eyebrows at her and she has to chew several times before swallowing with apparent difficulty. “It’s not even _that_ bad.”

“It’s slimy, cold, and it smells horrible.” Kageyama can’t quite put his finger on what the foul odour resembles, though it’s unique enough he knows to stay away whenever he catches the slightest sniff. “We’re supposed to be eating curry right now.”

Miwa rolls her cobalt blue eyes. If it had been their mother or father preparing natto, he would’ve sat down immediately (and miserably) to eat without a word of complaint, out of filial duty. With his darling sister, however—there’s more leeway to childish behaviour. Nonetheless, Kageyama is reminded that even she has her limit when she shoots him an unimpressed look. 

His lower lip juts out as he shuffles over with his head downcast. He plops down in defeat, landing harshly against the wooden chair. A soft ‘Itadakimasu’ slips past his lips before he unenthusiastically guides the spoonful of food to this mouth. 

The natto leaves an unpleasant, cold taste on his tongue and the stringy texture of the beans feels so _wrong_. Kageyama quickly gulps down his miso soup to wash the slimy unpleasantness away. 

“You’re being such a brat,” Miwa scolds, though the grin threatening to burst on her face clashes with her words. “Stop pretending not like it.”

“I don’t even need to pretend, Onee-san.” 

His sister hums in amusement before returning to her bowl. They both let a comfortable silence settle between them in the cozy apartment, only occasionally disrupted by the faint clinking of metal chopsticks against ceramic plates. 

“Hey,” Miwa suddenly calls out. Kageyama stiffens instinctively. “You said you had something important to tell me today.”

Even though the setter was the one to schedule this conversation, he suddenly feels the need to rip a hole in time and slap the Kageyama from this morning for his stupidity. It was in a moment of reckless courage that he had blurted out his need to vent, with the urgency of Miwa standing in the doorway and rushing to leave for an errand only spurring his instantaneous impulse. 

He regretted it the moment he had heard the door slam shut, the devastation of the sound akin to a death knell ringing from afar. In all honesty, he prayed the incident would slip Miwa’s mind—though it seems this was no longer feasible. 

Kageyama had originally intended to converse with his only sibling about his Hanahaki. She, like the majority of Kageyama’s family and friends, had not been privy to the intimate details of the disease—only told that her brother was essentially a walking greenhouse who may need reminders to take his pills daily. 

What he had been planning to achieve from this heart-to-heart is unclear to him now—it isn’t like Miwa could threaten Oikawa into falling in love with her brother—though he had recalled Yachi advising him to not bottle his emotions up like they would ferment to produce wine. Although he hadn’t exactly followed her counsel despite promising he would—Tsukishima was still the only soul who knew the name of the gardener unknowingly planting flowers where they should not grow ( _inside Kageyama_ )—he had convinced himself it wouldn’t hurt to start. 

The man avoids his sister’s expectant gaze, all of a sudden finding his natto surprisingly and exceptionally entertaining. Miwa would instantly sense the untruthfulness the moment he opened his mouth to lie—which he intends to do. 

It wasn’t like Kageyama could open up to his parents about how the person making his suffocating scarlet flowers bloom had interacted with him a handful of times in these last few years and was situated thousands of kilometres away for the time being. Doing so would mean explaining _why_ he cared about someone who had interacted with him a handful of times in these last few years and was situated thousands of kilometres away for the time being _to this extent_. 

His mother and father likely wouldn’t have been able to empathize with him—finding it unreasonable for him to be so obsessed with someone who had probably managed to exploit his naivety and impressionability with flashy plays and fancy hair.

 _Onee-san might understand_ was what he had reasoned, given her past affinity for volleyball. He realizes his oversights as he shovels natto—slimy, cold natto—into his mouth to buy time. 

Kageyama isn’t supposed to be remembering Oikawa because of his pills, and Miwa knows this. He doesn’t think he’s ever mentioned his middle school senpai—accidentally or not—to anyone in his family, though it isn’t like he would be able to recall if he did. The only reason he can put a name to the brown-haired setter is because of the tiny annotations on the Monthly Volleyball calendar hanging innocently on his bedroom wall…

“Did you touch any of the things in my bathroom?” The displeased accusation in Miwa’s tone jolts Kageyama out of his thoughts. 

“Of course not, Onee-san.” 

“Good, because I need the palettes to be new and ready to use when I bring them aboard with me.” Kageyama nods obediently. “So, like, did you break anything recently or what?”

“What? No!” he can’t help but exclaim defensively when he sees his sister’s deadpan expression. “The mirror was a one-time thing…”

Miwa doesn’t avert her stare so the younger does instead, his cheeks heating up from the guilt and embarrassment of having clumsily cracked the makeup artist’s favourite handheld mirror. To be fair, her arriving home and slamming the door unexpectedly to snap him out of his stupor was quite the surprise—it wasn’t like Kageyama purposely dropped it. Just as he opens his mouth to tell her this, Miwa breaks into a smile. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop teasing my cute little brother.” She chuckles upon noticing the pout beginning to form on said sibling’s lips. “Now, what did you really want?”

_I want to talk to you about Oikawa-san._

_I want to know if you’ve ever felt anything so strongly towards someone who’s left you behind that you’d go against what the doctor said._

_I want to ask if you’d be mad at me if you found out that I stopped taking my pills a while ago to rememb—_

“I’m kind of nervous to start playing with the Schweiden Adlers.” It isn’t a lie—the thought of joining all those monsters on the court makes him want to empty his stomach—so Miwa doesn’t call him out. “But also kind of excited. It’s like natto—it makes me want to throw up.”

“That last detail was so unnecessary.” She reaches over to ruffle his hair despite Kageyama towering over her even with both of them sitting down. “Why is my Tobio so nervous? It’s volleyball. It’ll be like Karasuno but you’re wearing white this time.”

Nothing will ever be like Karasuno, Kageyama thinks, even if the team is forever evolving and the faces forever changing. He understands what Miwa means to say, though—it’s volleyball, quite possibly the only aspect of his life that has never left him. His mind can't help but wander to the other third-years whom he no longer encounters regularly. 

“Yeah, yeah…thanks, Onee-san.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I’M ALIVE! I know I keep apologizing for late updates, but I swear I'm not being slow on purpose—I’m just really, really bad at time management…I already have my plate full with school homework and applications, so one to two weeks between chapters may not be enough (maybe two to three, just as a heads-up because I don’t like leaving everyone hanging without letting them know). I’M SORRY :( I should have time for faster updates near the end of December though…
> 
> This chapter serves as a slow start, but I promise there will be more exciting events in the future! My writing was partly hindered by the release of new canon content as I tried to figure out how to incorporate everything, but we’ll see how that goes! 
> 
> The next chapter will introduce Ushijima—and maybe he’ll discover a secret of Kageyama’s *cough cough*
> 
> As always, thank you all for reading (despite me being so bad at regular updates)! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> Notes for the story:  
> \- Ohoho interesting tags yes (one of the pairings is a pretty big spoiler for the third part of this series)  
> \- Don’t worry if you’re confused about why Kageyama can suddenly recall his past, it’ll be explained in the next chapter!  
> \- I’m not too sure if I managed to portray Miwa’s character right, but I think it was a decent attempt :D


	2. Only a fake fan would notice Hoshiumi's haircut a season late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "OIKAGE canon," I say as I attempt to join the crowd of fans and pretend I was here the entire time and didn't just go MIA before content was released hehe. Have some Kageyama, Ushijima, and Hoshiumi bonding time! Enjoy :D
> 
> (Consistent chapter lengths? Never heard of that.)

Miwa drops Kageyama off in the vacant and spacious parking lot of the gym regularly used by the Schweiden Adlers. The setter is vaguely reminded of his first day entering junior high as he finds himself staring dumbly at another set of doors once more. This time, however, his grandfather is not chuckling beside him, and instead of walking up to tug the handle with only the slightest hesitation, he remains rooted in position. 

Even though the lighting blatantly signifies there are people inside the building—combined with the fact Kageyama must seem strange (at best) to any teammates-to-be of his who happen to arrive this second—he refuses to follow normal protocol by entering the gym. It’s a desperate effort on his part to avoid unnecessary small-talk, though ultimately, it’s geared towards a noble cause.

 _To not embarrass myself in front of my elders._

He’s early, though not too early for someone whose life supposedly solely revolves around volleyball. It shouldn’t be too long before a future teammate of his materializes beside him and decides changing is more important than chatting with him. Then Kageyama can trail after and build on any potential conversation his colleague has with the receptionist or coach, as opposed to initiating his own. Any second now—

“Kageyama Tobio.” 

The blue-eyed man perks up slightly at the mention of his name for two reasons. Firstly, the speaker is behind him, meaning the former is fairly familiar with him to recognize him by his back, thus sparing both of them any awkward introductions. Secondly, he thinks he recognizes whom the voice belongs to as he spins around—

 _Ushijima-san._

Kageyama bows immediately before straightening. Believe it or not, the man has been making a conscious effort to ameliorate his execution of an idle conversation with anyone outside his circle of friends and family since he last saw the olive-eyed player in front of him. One of his most significant discoveries is that stating the obvious often serves as successful inception to light talk, and he makes use of this to establish his maturity in hopes of modifying the elder’s impression of him. 

“Ushijima-san,” Kageyama announces calmly, before following it up with a “you're here.” 

_Nailed it._

“Indeed,” comes the reply in a similar manner. 

Kageyama doesn’t show it, but he’s pleasantly delighted the opposite hitter is keeping to the script he has mentally prepared instead of calling him out on his useless observation as certain people would. The elder doesn’t seem to have changed since their last conversation after Karasuno’s victory—if there is a height difference then Kageyama doesn’t notice, having grown quite a few centimetres himself. 

A good follow-up would be to provide any updates on their mutual connections. 

“Did you know that Hinata is preparing to play beach volleyball?” he questions, keeping his tone as nonchalant as possible because it _isn’t_ as if the orange-haired spiker choosing to train on the other side of the world _affected_ him. _Not at all._ Kageyama couldn’t care _less_ about the friend that he thought would be with him on _every_ stage leaving their competition—even if temporarily. 

Despite the majority of opinions belonging to the opposition, Kageyama doesn’t think Hinata’s decision is excessive. Learning to step into an attack on the shifting sand will serve him well when they meet again. Moreover, there’s something so dauntless and animalistic in wanting to restart from the bottom after establishing a name for oneself at the top that he couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised when Hinata announced his plans. 

Nonetheless, Kageyama doesn’t understand why the spiker needs to reset when they could’ve ventured higher from their current podiums. It isn’t as if they reached the zenith yet, though he’s sure they will. Hinata has nothing to prove to him; the blue-eyed man would wholeheartedly race against him with the same vigour and hunger as he always unleashed. 

“Ah, yes. Washijo-sensei informed me.” The younger nods, deeming it logical the news would have reached Ushijima, given his status as a Shiratorizawa alumnus. A soft smile dances on the elder’s lips, greatly contrasting with the heated focus in his olive eyes. “I look forward to playing against Hinata Shoyo.”

The setter falters in his reply before feeling his cheeks lift in a smirk. Perhaps he doesn’t understand his friend, yet that isn’t to say he _disagrees_. Even though he would prefer to wipe the floor with the mentioned spiker this oncoming season, his grandfather’s words remain fresh in his head. _Hinata understands himself best_. If Hinata thought practicing in Brazil was important, then who was Kageyama to argue otherwise? 

_Two years isn’t the longest I’ve had to wait to play against someone._

“Me too,” he agrees easily. 

A short pause ensues before Ushijima speaks. 

“Are you aware Iwaizumi Hajime is currently studying sports science in California?” Kageyama is confused as to why the first name of Aoba Johsai’s former ace is added since he knows which Iwaizumi the opposite hitter is referring to. 

“Oh, so that’s what Iwaizumi-san is doing.” He is fairly surprised to hear his senpai from Kitagawa Daiichi has not chosen to pursue professional volleyball, though the fact that his chosen field is related provides some comfort. 

The other third years—save for Hinata and himself—decided against continuing volleyball. Yachi has joined him in Tokyo, currently busying herself with moving onto the campus where she prepares to study media design and intern for one of the numerous corporations in the city. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima both keep to universities in Miyagi, though only Tsukishima plans to play for a team. 

Kageyama has long predicted Yamaguchi would not chase after volleyball the way he and Hinata do—as if it were the very reason they breathe. Especially in their last year at Karasuno, he could tell seeing the beaming faces of the team was already enough to satisfy the captain as a victory would. 

_Nobody understands what is and is not important to you better than you do._

However, Kageyama is confident he was accurate in reading Tsukishima’s desires. He sincerely hopes the university will not be the last instance the blond middle blocker steps on a court. 

“Where is California, by the way?” 

“In the United States,” Ushijima answers without a hint of a sneer or sigh. “He is interning there with my father.”

The Shiratorizawa alumnus, Kageyama is beginning to find, is very easy to engage with. Whereas some unnamed individuals would’ve teased the setter for asking, Ushijima is honest and straightforward as he does his best to be informative. 

Perhaps Seijoh alumni have a knack for flinging themselves off to different continents, yet Kageyama has no evidence from the most recent batch of graduates to confirm this theory. Although his interactions with Kindaichi and Kunimi have been civil and—dare he say it—friendly, they were limited to ones involving the court. Tsukishima and Hinata both have their contact information though, and they’re rumoured to be studying in university. 

Kageyama can’t fathom how Iwaizumi can handle studying an ocean and timezone apart from the rest of his friends. Despite the Karasuno third years all remaining in one country and timezone, the setter finds himself disliking the distance between the five of them. Yachi is the only one he can easily meet up with face-to-face, and even video calls are harder to schedule since each of them is occupied with their respective activities. 

_Maybe that’s why Sugawara-san said to enjoy high school more._

Kageyama snaps himself out of his thoughts and, to continue the conversation, steels himself to utter a question he knows he is not supposed to propose. 

“Did you know that Oikawa-san is playing in the Argentinian league?” The topic of the brown-haired setter is bound to surface while ‘gossiping’ with Ushijima, thus why Kageyama made preparations beforehand. 

The Monthly Volleyball calendar pinned to his wall appears innocuous enough that Miwa overlooks the markings on it whenever she steps inside his room. She doesn’t suspect any deeper significance behind the symbols that dictate which days her brother is supposed to skip the Hanahaki pill and head straight to breakfast. Kageyama, however, sees them (having annotated said calendar himself) and follows them religiously. 

He first stopped treatment as an experiment last December and regained his memories of Oikawa, along with the familiar—though slightly weaker this time—chest pains after a little more than a week of not ingesting the pills. Despite proceeding to continue using the medicine the days after, the burning in his lungs remained for another two weeks and his recollections lingered for another month. Those thirty days felt like an out-of-body experience as he relived moments that seemed foreign, like they belonged to another Kageyama. 

He could remember the words ‘ _who is the Grand King_ ’ resting on the tip of his tongue in multiple interactions before Tsukishima shot him a look and redirected the conversation. He could remember his mind drawing a blank when he read several diary entries dedicated to a spectacular setter in his first year of junior high despite said setter likely being memorable enough to not fade away in six years' time. 

He could remember wondering why his search history and recommended videos contained games from the Argentinian volleyball league. He could remember hearing the girls on the bleachers incessantly screaming, ‘ _Oikawa-san_ ’ at a captain from Aoba Johsai in a recording before wondering about the name of the player with the same jersey number weeks afterwards. 

He could remember _not remembering_ Oikawa—paradoxical as it sounds—and it was horrifying how normal his life had been in those times he had been ignorant to the pain and rejection blossoming inside his chest. The medicine didn’t cause him to forget his Hanahaki yet because all thoughts of Oikawa were erased, it deceived him into believing the other setter was nothing more than a passing fancy. 

Although he couldn’t recall the face nor the name of his obsession when his Hanahaki was being repressed, he could confirm there existed one. His mind pulled the blindfold over his eyes and deluded him into thinking he was only pining after a lover he couldn’t obtain. 

_Only a lover._

As opposed to an unwilling mentor whose movements were imprinted in his even as he played internationally for the junior national team. 

As opposed to a goal whose philosophy he had sought to learn and chased after his entire career. 

As opposed to a rival whose presence instilled both the fear and inspiration that fuelled his evolution. 

It was _exceptionally cruel_ how Kageyama’s mind could contort and underestimate the depth and complexity of their shared history as if it were a picturesque painting and not a symbolic mess of stains and rips _and_ picturesque paintings all forced onto one canvas. It made him shiver when he thought about how dangerously easy it would have been to continue living the rest of his life with memories of the former Seijoh captain locked away without even realizing it.

Thus, Kageyama marked down the handful of days where he would forego his medicine and ‘refresh’ his memory every month. The relapse-induced ache in his torso was duller in comparison to before; he could handle it if he pushed himself hard enough in training. If not for the minuscule likelihood of being able to recognize Oikawa should a chance meeting arise, then he reasoned all this was necessary to disguise the fact that he was suffering from Hanahaki. 

His only rule was that the recurrences mustn’t coincide with his competition days, and so timing became a key consideration. The V League season months of October through March remained unannotated on his calendar, as games were grouped too closely to allow proper recovery in between. However, tournaments scattered throughout the rest of the year—whether held by FIVB or Japan—remained fair game as long as he could numb the physical symptoms in time. 

If not for the fact that he was certain to receive an earful from Miwa and his friends, Kageyama would’ve gladly provided his calendar as an attestation to his proficiency in basic mathematics. 

“Yes,” responds Ushijima, his low voice easing Kageyama out of his thoughts. “I’ve seen several of—”

“Are you guys really just going to stand there?” 

The two of them snap towards the sharp voice, glancing slightly downwards to see a familiar white-haired athlete. Hoshiumi has a feral grin on his face for having caught the two taller players off guard, though the quirk in his eyebrows signifies he’s exasperated by their current positions. Behind him, Kageyama can make out other figures approaching, some in titanium jackets with their team name emblazoned on the back and others in various sporting gear. 

Ushijima greets the outside hitter, unbothered, while the black-haired man bows down before following suit. 

“Hoshiumi-san”— _obvious statement time_ —“you’ve gotten a haircut.”

Said owner of a new haircut examines him with narrowed eyes for a full second before scoffing. 

“I’ve had this hair last season too.” All too suddenly, Hoshiumi’s face is a centimetre away from his and Kageyama is reminded of Nishinoya—both seem to be capable of staring the blue-eyed man down from a lower vantage point. “What, you didn’t watch my matches?”

“I did,” he answers, unperturbed. Kageyama spent the past few months following the Schweiden Adlers' games and taking comprehensive notes on the players, including Hoshiumi’s famous aerial battles and Ushijima’s dominating form. The Kamomedai graduate tilts his head in confusion before tossing it back and letting out a boisterous laugh. 

“Okay then, you weirdo.” Hoshiumi places his hands on their backs to usher them into the building. “Can you two just move and not block the entrance like annoyingly tall poles?” Kageyama blinks; he hasn’t noticed him and Ushijima haven’t strayed a single centimetre from their original positions before their exchange. “What did you talk about, anyway?” 

The opposite hitter dutifully fills their white-haired companion on all the latest gossip in the professional volleyball circuit, the latter’s interest evidently piquing at the mention of Hinata Shoyo. Kageyama doesn’t mind the commotion though, becoming too concentrated in absorbing the beige walls, the receptionist desk, and the numerous framed photos capturing the team’s best plays. 

He can’t wait until his sets are featured in those photographs. 

——————

The Schweiden Adlers bare no resemblance to Karasuno in the slightest, and naturally, neither do their plays. 

Be that as it may, a similar process is involved as Kageyama ambitiously shortens the time between hearing the squeaking shoes of a hitter in their approach to the instant the name and location of said hitter flashes in his mind. A similar process is involved as Kageyama unhesitatingly angles his toss such that his spikers must stretch to reach the expectation he has built out of unwavering faith. A similar process is involved as Kageyama learns to reaccept his trust is not blind in that Ushijima will always be ready to launch from behind the attack line and Hoshiumi will always waiting to soar into the air and someone will always be there to meet him halfway. 

Kageyama familiarizes himself with the heavy steps, the light footfalls, the confident strides, and the hungry leaps of every attack option he has available to him. Although the numbers and colours draped across his torso invoke different types of smiles and different types of fondness, Kageyama is reminded the core of a setter never changes. 

_To push._ Then pull. _To give._ Then demand. _To wait._ Then urge. _To summon._ Then support. _To understand._ Then exploit. 

One championship title isn’t sufficient—he’s already anticipating the next challenge. Even as he hunches over the toilet after retching out the _Erythrina crista-galli_ blossoms. 

This isn’t normal—it’s only been five days since he followed the little markings on his calendar and stopped his treatment. Five days since the Adlers won the finals, effectively marking the end of the 2015-2016 V League season. Yet he can already correctly answer the question serving as a measure of how much he can remember. The words flash across his laptop screen above an image of a chocolate-haired man. 

**Who is this?**

_Oikawa Toru. Oikawa Toru, the one from middle school, the one who doesn’t want me._

Kageyama’s memories aren’t ‘scheduled to return’ until a little over a week, and these alarmingly red flowers—they aren’t supposed to be here at all. 

_Why am I already coughing up plants? The symptoms shouldn’t be returning this soon._

His throat tightens excruciatingly and he barely catches himself as he collapses in another fit. Some more petals tumble out. Somewhere in his head, he registers the clicks of the lock before the door opens and he hears Ushijima call out, slowly increasing in volume as the footfalls sound closer. 

“Kageyama”—the setter’s eyes widen in horror and he jerks back as if hit by a wave of freezing water—“are you alright?” 

Kageyama left the party early with the excuse of not feeling well. The gathering had been thrown by the publicity team to celebrate the Schweiden Adlers’ championship title and invitations had been extended to fans and sponsors as thanks for their support. He wasn’t fond of large functions (excluding matches), especially one with music deafening enough to exacerbate the throbbing of his head caused by the sea of people all jumping to one beat. The team let him return to the dorms on account of his insistence and the fact that he was sober enough (of course he was sober—he legally couldn’t drink) to take care of himself. 

He didn’t think Ushijima would return to their shared apartment this early. He regretted not closing the bathroom door when he hurried in after quenching his thirst in the kitchen. 

The footsteps have become louder. 

Kageyama scans the room. The majority of the petals are in the toilet bowl, but some are scattered across the tile floor. 

_Quickly, quickly—_

The tremor in his hands hinders him as he scrambles to clean up the mess and flush the evidence away. 

“Hirugami-san let me leave and I went to purchase some painkillers for—“ 

Kageyama whips his head up in a panic to see Ushijima standing in the doorway, eyes slightly wider than normal and his mouth ajar. He has a plastic bag in his left hand, no doubt holding medicine for the younger’s headache. 

The setter can see the gears turning in his roommate’s head as the latter takes in the crimson flowers strewn about and the exertion-induced flush painting his cheeks. 

Ushijima blinks. 

Kageyama feels a bead of cold sweat trickle down his back. His tongue is heavy and dry as the Sahara as he fumbles for a lie. Anything to explain his current condition. 

_Quickly, quickly—_

“Ushijima-san! I-I was—“ 

_I bought a bouquet—_

_The flowers are—_

His voice is caught in his throat when Ushijima wordlessly drops the bag and disappears behind the door frame. Stunned, Kageyama dumbly waits in his hunched-over position with a million thoughts running through his head until his roommate reemerges. In Ushijima's hand is a glass of water. 

The blue-eyed man gratefully accepts the drink and downs half of it in ravenous gulps while the elder tentatively takes his spot behind him to awkwardly pat his back. His throat doesn’t feel as rough now. 

“When you’re feeling better, we can talk about your Hanahaki,” the opposite hitter offers softly. 

Kageyama chokes. 

_He knows._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> HEHE Did you all see the new episode? I haven’t watch the entirety of it yet because as soon as I saw Oikawa and Kageyama, my mind went OIKAGE CANON and I rushed to finish this chapter. 
> 
> My writing doesn’t seem as emotional anymore and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m out of practice or because the deep stuff hasn’t happened yet lol. 
> 
> As always, university stuff is keeping me extra busy so the next update will be in three weeks if all goes well :D Once again, thank you all for bearing with my awful schedule! 
> 
> The next chapter will have Ushijima and some of the Karasuno third years!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated, it’s really fun talking with you all!
> 
> Notes for the story:  
> \- As you might imagine, I actually don’t know what goes on in a professional volleyball team so let’s all just pretend this seems legit (I’ve done research on the tournaments though, to keep the story as close to the canon and real-life timeline as possible!)  
> \- This chapter covers the V League season from 2015-2016  
> \- Hoshiumi’s hard to write because all I have for him is LOUD and INSPIRATIONAL SKSKSKS  
> \- Listen to your doctor and don’t be like Kageyama :D


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